


DnDecember challenge: 2019

by Verdic



Category: DNDecember - Fandom, Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: DNDecember, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:47:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21681688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verdic/pseuds/Verdic
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter Index:

Day 1: Level 1  
Day 2: Long Rest  
Day 3: Level 10  
Day 4: Melee  
Day 5: Ranged  
Day 6: Magic Casters  
Day 7: Level 20


	2. Day 1: Level 1 Characters

Ojawhe could hear the fighting outside. The Dragon Cultists had taken Greenest by surprise and fell upon the small town. He had helped bring people into the keep, but there were still people outside who needed help. The Baron wasn’t willing to send any of his forces into the town, having them busy with protecting the walls and the people they had already saved. Ojawhe itched to help others, his calling urging him to do more than just sit back while others were in peril. 

The purple skinned teifling looked at the arms he had placed aside. His patchwork chainmail, made of swatches of different styles and materials, lay next to his shield. It was made in the Hoplon style, but the bronze facing was well dented and scored, the symbol of his goddess mostly chipped away. Beside these lay his spear, a slightly warped pole with a long tip, slightly rusting. The rest of his gear was stored in a back satchel. Some of the seams were fraying, but thankfully none of them had opened. 

He sighed internally at the condition of his gear. His hermitage had provided him with the bare minimum when they sent him forth into the world. He knew all of them had much better equipment, and they had only given him what scraps they had because they couldn’t send him out without any gear. The only items of any quality he had were the bronze symbol of the Hearth around his neck, and the odd club around his waist. He pulled out the club. It was two feet long of hardwood, with the foot and a half past the handle being carved into a perfect hexagon. All along the length were metal rods passing through the thin club, ending in small bulbs. These additional studs turned the club into a powerful weapon. 

It was also one of the few things he had from his life before the hermitage. That and his monotone voice and the scars on his neck. 

He turned as he heard a bustling noise from the lower levels. A stream of villagers ran into the keep, followed by a group from the caravan he had spied on the road appeared. They had the appearance of adventurers. There was a male elf in robes, a female gnome with a rapier and sea-worn leathers, a male golden dragonborn in scalemail with a drawn longsword and holstered longbow. Ojawhe started when the dragonborn turned and he saw a halfing pretending to be a backpack on his larger companion. 

It was then that he noticed the body they were carrying. It was a large half-orc in faded multi-colored robes. Ojawhe could tell from the limpness of the body that it was dead. Another person fallen in the line of duty to save this town. Ojawhe went to the new villagers, making sure no one needed healing. As he was settling the people behind the walls, he heard the Baron’s voice call out for volunteers to rescue people from the mill. The group of adventurers needed assistance after one of their number had fallen. 

“I will do it.” Ojawhe’s soft, calm voice rang out throughout the chaos, his thaumaturgy amplifying his voice. People turned to look at him, unnerved by the barely dressed teifling in their midst, his voice slightly ethereal and surreal. Calmly, he started donning his armor and picked up his equipment. 

Ojawhe took a look at his new companions as they made to exit the keep again. The gnome’s armor was covered in sea salt, a pair of daggers at her thin waist and a rapier held causally in her hand. The dragonborn stood poised for action, his sword away and his bow drawn again, an arrow laid across the staff. On his back was the halfling, an eldritch glow in his eyes, magic playing around his fingertips. Ojawhe could see all of their armor was well worn and nicked. They almost looked as poor as his equipment. 

“I am Ojawhe, initiate to the order of Hestia, Goddess of the Hearth. I offer my services to you.”

“Yo, what can you do?” Asked the dragonborn.

“I am a healer, but I will not shirk from combat.” Ojawhe replied, looking up into this tall ranger’s eyes. Hefting his shield, Ojawhe set off, face a calm slate as they headed out to rescue more people.


	3. Day 2: Long Rest on the road

They had been following the Dragon cult for a few days, the path always leading North on the Sword Coast. They knew their journey was going to lead them at least to Waterdeep, if not further. Balthasar, their ranger, had found a good place off the side of the road for them to camp for the night. There was a small carve out in the hill, creating a windbreak. This seemed like a place many people had camped, if the well-used fire pit was any indication. 

Balthasar and the newcomer, Laconia, a human hunter, had caught some game earlier and were currently preparing it for dinner. Gideon, the halfling, had sat himself down and promptly started lounging, content to let the others do most of the work. Kavvik, another human they had found trying to bring an end to the Dragon Cult, was on look out with Tanna, the salt encrusted gnome, making sure no one was going to disrupt them. 

Ojawhe had fallen into his normal role, both with this group and his hermitage. He laid his shield down and started a fire in the pit, tossing in a small amount of incense as an offering to Hestia. The fire started roaring soon, and the smell of cooking meat wafting throughout the camp. Ojawhe, having a moment to set up his own sleeping arrangements, turned to his dented, metal shield. He often gathered some fire into his shield and used it to commune with his goddess, as it was a hearth to itself. 

As he turned, he saw Gideon had gathered his sleeping bag and had curled up inside of the large shield. For a moment, Ojawhe considered dumping the small halfling out of the shield. Instead, he sighed internally, not showing his dissatisfaction externally, and turned back to the fire. This wasn’t the first time Gideon used his shield to sleep in. Instead, Ojawhe sat near the fire, staring into the depths, looking for guidance in the waves of flame and heat. 

The silence of the night was only broken by the crackling of the fire and the chewing of food. They spoke little, as most of them kept to themselves, bonded only by dint of being hired for the same mission.   
When it was Ojawhe’s turn for watch, he donned his armor, leaving his shield for Gideon to sleep in, and moved up to just under the ridge of the hill. He sat, his vision gazing over the land. His eyes kept falling back to his companions, all slumbering around the fire. 

He considered them for a moment. Balthasar and Laconia were both hunters, accomplished with tracking and the bow. Balthasar he felt he could trust, knowing he had a personal stake in bringing a good name to dragons. Laconia...had worked for the Dragon Cult, albeit as a mercenary hunter to gather food for them. Still, Ojawhe believed in being able to turn a new leaf. He looked at the small halfling inside of his shield. Gideon had...abilities that no one was certain of. He tended to be the wild card, and Ojawhe had to reign him in. He turned to Tanna and Kavvik, both sleeping deeply. They both preferred to get up close in a fight, like he did. Kavvik focuses on taking large swings with his two handed blade, cleaving through his opponents with unerring accuracy. Tanna preferred to be smart about her fighting, making precision strikes and turning her opponent's mistakes and strength against them.

He smiled to himself, finally in a place no one could see. His companions were taking respite around his fire, sated by the food he cooked. They were safe. He smiled at a job well done.


End file.
